


The Fall

by Puffcat



Series: Equestrian AU [3]
Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Relationship, but there's definitely shippy stuff I promise, horseback riding is serious business kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 12:51:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5627260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puffcat/pseuds/Puffcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes only a second for everything to go wrong.</p><p>The match between Tezuka and Atobe, adapted for my AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fall

Tezuka’s knee twinged. And he had a feeling it would only get worse. He had anticipated the show against Hyotei to be difficult. They were currently ahead, but only barely. By hard work and determination, Seigaku had managed to win both the Dressage and Cross Country divisions, despite Hyotei starting the day by taking the Trail division.

Currently, the show jumping portion of the competition was well under way. The course was challenging; although it was not high, the order of the jumps was complex. He, Eiji, Inui, and Kaidoh were the riders competing in this division, against Hyotei’s Mukahi, Hiyoshi, and Atobe, the captain.

At the end of the first round, only he and Atobe had gone clear, making it through the course without any faults. A jump-off was going to be the tie breaker. It would determine both the individual and team winner of the division, as both Seigaku and Hyotei were tied for points between the other five riders.

The height of the fences had all been raised, and coach Ryuzaki came over with a sheet of paper in hand, the path of the jumps drawn upon it. From now on, the courses would be shorter, but more difficult to navigate, requiring fine control and effort from both horse and rider.

Tezuka felt confident as he mounted. Liberator, his young bay Oldenburg mare felt calm between his legs. She did not prance as Kaidoh’s horse had when they approached the starting gate, but Tezuka could sense that there was energy and alertness under her placid exterior.

She did startle a bit, however, as the Hyotei spectators began to cheer. Within moments, Atobe was beside him, astride his Westphalian stallion Charlemagne. He was taller than Liberator, his golden coat shining in the sunlight. Tezuka had to admit, he was very handsome.

Amidst the cries of his fans, Atobe waved, smiling. As he raised his hand higher, the intensity only grew, the chant resounding throughout the grounds. Atobe snapped his fingers. In an instant, all was silent.

Sighing, Tezuka turned to look at him. “Are you quite finished?” He asked dryly. This was hardly the national tournament, there was absolutely no need for such pomp and uproar.

“Hn,” Atobe hummed in response, smirking. “I am. Best of luck to both of us, I suppose.” He remarked, gesturing to the area before extending his fist. Tezuka bumped it with his own, the corner of his lips twitching almost imperceptibly. As their hands touched, Atobe couldn’t help but notice how different Tezuka looked without his glasses, opting to wear contacts for the competition. But it was a good different, he decided.

Before Tezuka could wish Atobe the same good fortune, the announcer called out to start the jump-off, naming the other boy as the first to go.

Even though the course was made to trip riders up, Atobe made it look easy, spotting his distances perfectly before Charlemagne sailed effortlessly over every obstacle in his path. No faults, for the first round. Tezuka would have been shocked if he had done anything less.

The two captains passed each other at the gate, Tezuka going in, Atobe out. “How’s your knee feeling today?” If he had not been paying attention, he would have missed the jab entirely. He gritted his teeth, not responding, distinctly ignoring the tiny pull in his muscles. He set his sights firmly ahead, urging Liberator into a collected canter, riding a small circle at the end of the arena before looking to his first jump.

He too, had a clear round, and not a moment after he trotted back through the gate was he handed another sheet of paper. Another course. They would continue like this until one of them made an error.

And continue they did. Round after round after round they jumped, the courses growing in height and difficulty each time. By the tenth, Tezuka was beginning to struggle. He felt himself falling behind, not quick enough to rise out of the saddle at the right moment when Liberator jumped. This, in turn, was throwing the mare off, making her unable to put all of her concentration into clearing each fence. He could see Atobe beginning to change as well. His distances were no longer flawless as they had been, Charlemagne even once clipping the top of a rail with his back hoof.

Sizing one another up was done. It was time for both of them to get serious.

Atobe’s eyes narrowed as he started again, eyes not fixed on the first jump as they were before, but flitting around quickly, surveying his entire course. Already his gaze was two, three jumps ahead of his current obstacle at all times. Finally, he was employing his Insight, allowing himself to see every distance, count every stride he needed to take long before he had to take it. It was a great strain on his eyes and mental stamina, but worth it to get ahead. And to force Tezuka’s hand, make him use his own trump card. If he was going to win this, he wanted to win against nothing less than his rival’s best.

Taking a breath to center himself as Atobe left the arena, another clear under his belt, Tezuka willed away any stress and soreness he felt. From now on he would be tested, taxed like he had not been before. But he was ready. Liberator sensed his breath leave his body, and immediately he tensed, tail swishing in anticipation. For the tenth time, they entered the ring. As soon as they were through, Tezuka rose up in his saddle as he nudged Liberator forward, carrying himself up off of her back as if he were going over a fence.

The change was instant. Liberator stretched out underneath him, strides lengthening, but not losing collection. Riding this way allowed Tezuka to be ready for whatever distance he needed to take, whether it be taking off for a jump early, or adding an extra half stride. It also allowed his horse to jump more freely, not having to worry about a rider seated directly on her back.

But it was not easy, by any means. The technique required perfect balance from Tezuka, as well as absolute trust and faith in his mount. If she refused a fence, slipped, or fell, he would be thrown from the saddle. Which meant instant disqualification. It was also a terrible strain on his knees, as they were what kept him upright, kept him balanced, kept him matching Liberator’s rhythm as she ran.

Atobe watched with interest; he had heard of this technique, but had never seen it in action. The Tezuka Zone, his team called it, chattering excitedly the second they saw their captain rise. And he could see how it got its name. Tezuka never moved from where he crouched above Liberator’s back, flowing seamlessly with her as he steered her though the course. The rest of Seigaku cheered as Tezuka landed after the final jump. They would go again, it seemed.

By the sixteenth round, they were both visibly exhausted, wiping sweat off their brows with labored breathing. Their horses too were feeling fatigue set in, chests heaving and nostrils flaring as they drew long breaths. Patches of their coats were visibly dampened from sweat.

Atobe tried his best to hide it, but Tezuka saw him rubbing at his eyes. He was most likely developing a headache as well. For his part, his left knee had been growing more and more uncomfortable since he started using the Zone. Hot flashes of pain radiated from his joint whenever he so much as shifted his position. He withdrew his boot from his stirrup, allowing his leg to hang free. Now straightened, it alleviated the absolute worst of the hurt. But the harsh, throbbing ache was still very present.

He wouldn’t be able to hold out for much longer, he knew. Atobe would outlast him if it came down to endurance alone, a fact they were both aware of. The other captain did not try to hide his stares, searching for any sign of weakness Tezuka might show. His eyes locked onto Tezuka’s leg, knowing exactly what it meant for him. All he would need to do is draw this out a few rounds longer, and he’d have the win. Grinning, Atobe patted Charlemagne’s neck encouragingly. They could do this.

 

 

Back in the stands, where Seigaku was seated, Oishi did not like the look of things. He had not missed the way Tezuka’s face twisted in pain as he landed each jump, and he was sure Atobe had not either. But there was something off about the other captain. All of his original bravado was gone, his horse was jumping only as much as he needed to, no flashy, risky maneuvers. Which meant…. “He’s doing this on purpose…” He murmured, and Fuji glanced at him.

“So, you noticed it too.”

Oishi frowned. “He means to draw this out, he _knows_ Tezuka’s hurt.”

Beside them, Inui’s expression was unreadable behind his glasses. “It’s an effective strategy, albeit a slightly draconian one. Unfortunately, we cannot intervene, and even if we could, he would not want us to. Tezuka knows what he’s doing.”

“Mm…” Despite that, Oishi was still worried. Tezuka had a long standing habit of playing off serious injury. He only hoped this would not end too badly.

 

 

What Tezuka hoped would be the final course was the highest yet, each fence either near or at four and half feet, a staggering increase from the three foot ones they had jumped at the start. He had jumped at this level in practice a handful of times, but not in a competition. Liberator had done it easily before, but never this many, and never when she was this tired. But she had earned the nickname “Wonderhorse” for a reason. Her boundless energy, determination, and love of jumping had carried them through many a challenge before. And they could do it again.

Feeling confident, Atobe sat up a little straighter as he began. He loosened his reins, deciding to trust Charlemagne not to get ahead of himself. Using his Insight, he quickly counted the strides he would need for each fence. Charlemagne faithfully powered through his fatigue, his speed never diminishing. But at the fourth of seven jumps, his back hooves slid just a small amount as he took off. He landed, and the crowd gasped as a rail fell behind him. A fault. Atobe inwardly cursed, but quickly pushed the thought away, focusing more intently then he had ever before. He had no more errors when he finished, but that dropped rail weighed heavily on his mind. He had just given Tezuka a chance to take first place.

Hearing the thump as the wood pole hit the dust, Tezuka’s breath caught. This was it. If he could just get one more clear, this would all be over.

When his turn started, he took to the course with new vigor, the win on the horizon distracting him from the almost unbearable pain. Liberator was just as focused, her ears pricked forward and eyes fixed on nothing but the fences ahead.

They cantered to the first, a simple single, and got over it easily. The next two, a quick series of jumps one after the other, proved more difficult, the rapid flexing of Tezuka’s joint sent pain racing up his leg. But still he persevered, spurring Liberator on toward the next obstacle. Another single, another effortless takeoff and landing. Nearly pivoting on the spot, Liberator whirled, making a sharp turn toward an oxer. This jump had two fences adjacent to one another, with a sizeable gap in between each set of rails. The one Atobe had faulted over.

He could feel his horse itching to take off early, to rush the jump, but he held her back, not wanting to make the same mistake. But the decision cost him anyway, as she faltered before she lept, front leg sending the first pole crashing to the ground as she rose into the air.

Tied again, both now with a fault, Tezuka knew there was now only one way to win this round. He would have to beat Atobe’s time, and do it without any more errors. And this would be no small feat. Charlemagne being bigger than Liberator gave him longer strides, allowing him to close the gaps between jumps in less time.

Three more to go, and he dug his heels into Liberators sides. She accelerated, nearly galloping now. The fifth and sixth jumps she got past with ease, increased speed giving her more power. _But would it be enough to beat Atobe?_

The final stretch held the highest jump of the course, a triple bar set a large distance away from the previous one. Making the decision in a split second, Tezuka threw his hands forward, the tension in the reins all but gone. Liberator took off like a shot towards the last fence at a full gallop, stretching out her neck, hooves kicking up clods of dirt as they pounded the ground beneath them. But in losing contact in the reins, Tezuka lost the ability to control her speed. He saw it a millisecond before it happened, Liberator’s muscles tensing under him a full three meters before the jump, ready to take the longest approach they had ever attempted. And all Tezuka could do was hang on for the ride, still balanced in the Zone position.

The whole crowd watched, holding their breath, as Liberator launched herself into the air.

 _He’s insane._ That was the only thing running through Atobe’s mind as he watched in shock. Time seemed to slow down, he could see the concentration in Tezuka’s eyes as he flew. He looked on as the pair’s arc peaked, just above the middle of the three bars.  _He’s going to make it._

 

The last thing Tezuka saw was the jump disappearing under him.  Then, without warning, he heard a sharp crack, he felt himself lifting out of the saddle, falling as the world spun around him. There was a sickening crunch, and searing, white hot pain such that he had never felt before. He heard a scream, but could not tell if it was his own or someone else’s.  Darkness flooded his vision, though he was still conscious. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t breathe.

 

 _He’s going to make it._ Atobe had been sure, ready to turn away and accept defeat, when the unthinkable happened. Coming down over the last bar, Liberator dropped a front leg away from her chest where it had been tightly tucked. It caught between the second and third rails, the impact of bone on wood audible throughout the stands. She was thrown forward, hind legs almost perpendicular to the ground as her large body twisted in the air. She crashed to the ground, landing hard on her side, crushing Tezuka’s left leg underneath her. Atobe’s blood ran cold, his heart plummeted as he heard the scream ringing out from the arena. His body moved without thought as he flung himself from Charlemagne’s back and sprinted toward the arena.

Liberator had shakily gotten to her feet, prancing and snorting nervously as she shook her head. But Tezuka made no movements, no attempt to get up. He laid in the dirt, eyes wide open as he choked on his breath.

Dropping to his knees, panicked, Atobe wracked his brains, desperately trying to think of something, anything, that would help the boy in front of him. His gut clenched when he looked down at Tezuka’s knee, twisted in a horrifyingly unnatural angle. This wasn’t some sprain, this was _serious. Very serious._ He heard movement behind him, and Seigaku’s coach was kneeling next to him, tilting Tezuka’s head back to ease the flow of air back into his lungs. His face was pale underneath the dirt smeared over his skin Even as his breathing became more even, he still gasped in pain, whole body shuddering with the force of his sharp inhales.

Not knowing what else to do, Atobe grasped Tezuka’s hand tightly in his own, irrationally hoping it would help somehow, that Tezuka would feel it.

The coach shouted for someone to call an ambulance, but it sounded far away, muffled as the blood roared in Atobe’s ears. Though Tezuka’s chocolate brown eyes were still open, they were glassy, unseeing, unfocused.

The paramedics arrived fast, running out with their equipment and a stretcher. Atobe didn’t release his hold on Tezuka’s hand until he was forcibly pulled away by the captain’s coach. He got to his feet, and stared as the copper haired boy was quickly examined.

_“He’s going into shock, get an AED ready on board!”_

_“Heart rate severely elevated!”_

_“Decreased oxygen supply to the brain, I need an oxygen mask!”_

The shouts and orders of the paramedics swirled around Atobe’s head, but he only registered fragments of what he heard. _Shock. Severe. Low oxygen._ He wanted to reach out, say something as Tezuka was carefully loaded onto the stretcher and carried away, but he couldn’t. He was fixed to the spot, too shaken to move.

 

 

The entirety of Seigaku was in a panic, even the normally indifferent Echizen. At once they had all tried to charge the arena, make sure their captain was alright, but had stopped in their tracks as coach Ryuzaki yelled at them to stay right where they were.  They could only look on in alarm as the ambulance arrived, as Tezuka was taken away, oxygen mask fixed over his nose and mouth. The show, of course, was postponed for a later date. The horses had been quickly untacked and loaded onto the large trailer. In the rush, no one noticed Liberator’s limp.

The ride back to Seigaku was silent, as no one could still quite believe what had happened. The third years where visibly more shaken. Tezuka was not only their teammate, but their friend.

Fuji and Oishi seemed the most affected. Fuji sat stock still, eyes open, staring at the back of seat in front of him. His hands quivered in his lap, and he did not even notice as Taka wrapped an unsteady arm around his shoulders.

Oishi was trembling all over, fighting back tears. His hand was tightly clasped in Eiji’s, both of them trying to take any small comfort they could find in one another.

 

It had taken Oshitari shaking Atobe out of his frozen state to bring him back to his senses, and he ushered him back to the trailer. None of his teammates said a word about his actions. Not even Shishido, who offered him an awkward pat on the shoulder in an attempt at consolation. Atobe said nothing about their division win. No one had expected him to.

 

The first thing he had done after making sure Charlemagne was safe in his stall back at his manor was call Seigaku’s coach, asking hurriedly what hospital Tezuka was at. He took the name down in his phone, not noticing the one he grabbed automatically was the phone he used only for family and close friends. His slumber that night was not a fitful one, he tossed and turned until the early hours of the morning. He chalked it up to left over adrenaline from the past day’s events.

The next day, around noon, he got in his limo and had his driver take him to the address he had been given.

With abnormal caution, Atobe knocked on the door of Tezuka’s hospital room. He heard a faint ‘come in’, and turned the handle, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

Tezuka was propped up in the small hospital bed, leg secured in a tight splint and resting on top the blankets. His face was still a touch pale, but Atobe was pleased to see that there was definitely color back in his cheeks. There was an IV in the room, although it wasn’t attached to anything. Probably just a precautionary measure. The neck of Tezuka’s hospital robe was open somewhat, revealing a chest wrapped in bandages.

When he saw it was Atobe who walked in, Tezuka was surprised, although unsure if it was a pleasant surprise or not.

He looked at the shorter boy questioningly, scrutinizing him as he sat in the chair next to his bed.

“I wanted to see how you were doing.” The admission was quiet, all of the cockiness gone from his voice as Atobe met Tezuka’s eyes. He was wearing his glasses again. A family member must have brought them.

“I’m…alright.” He answered carefully. “Better than I could be, at any rate.” He had let his guard down for the sake of a victory. In the face of what could have happened, Tezuka counted himself lucky. He had read the articles about Christopher Reeves, the famous American actor that became a quadriplegic after a tragic jumping accident.

Atobe snorted, unable to stop himself. “You call this alright? You’re in the hospital, Tezuka. They brought you here in an ambulance.” He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget how the other boy looked, lying helpless and broken in the dust.

There was a pause, and then, “I’m going to need surgery to fix it.”

His heart skipped a beat. “That’s…that’s not…” Atobe tried to find the right words. Finally he settled on, “I’m sorry.”

Tezuka blinked. “It’s not your fault. I made the decision to take that jump like I did.” He said matter-of-factly, as if it really was that simple. 

If not for the gravity of the situation, Atobe would have laughed. It was such a purely _Tezuka_ response. Not allowing himself to place blame on others, taking too much responsibility when he didn’t need to. He was glad he was well enough to converse normally. It was one less concern, at least. Deciding not to press the issue, Atobe voiced his curiosity. “Is your knee broken?”

The other shook his head. “Severe dislocation in the kneecap, and mild fracture of the bones underneath.” He shifted in bed, but winced as he did so. “And two broken ribs, on top of it.”

While Tezuka was answering his questions, Atobe still felt he was holding back. Surely he had to be feeling something about all of this. Pain, sorrow, nervousness, anything. He would be unable to ride for some time, he would be lucky if he could even compete with his team at nationals, if they made it. Speaking of riding… “Is your horse alright?”

For a fleeting second, Atobe saw sadness flash in the other captain’s eyes. “…Liberator is….on stall rest. There were no fractures or breaks.” The relief in Tezuka’s words was palpable, and Atobe too relaxed. It couldn’t be anything too bad, then. “But her front right cannon bone is bruised.” She would need medication and rehabilitation, but she would not be permanently damaged.

They sat in silence for a moment, Atobe looking around the room. There were fresh flowers in a vase on the small bedside table, but no other decoration, or gifts from well-wishers. Tezuka’s team must not yet have visited. Atobe made a mental note to bring flowers of his own next time.

Tezuka’s next words startled him out of his reverie. “Congratulations on your victory.”

But Atobe wanted so badly to tell him that it didn’t matter, _you went into shock, you had a horse crush your knee, why would the win matter, the only thing that does is that you’re okay._ But he didn’t. He only nodded, letting some of his usual haughtiness creep into his smile. “Thank you. But we’re only tied. We’ll finish another day soon.”

“Mm…” Tezuka only hummed, eyelids beginning to droop. Of course he must be tired, Atobe realized, after all he’d been through in the past 24 hours.

He waited for Tezuka to dismiss him, but realized after only a minute that he had already fallen asleep. Reaching out, Atobe gently removed his glasses from where they perched on the bridge of his nose. He left them folded on the nightstand.

As Atobe left, he decidedly did not think about the way his chest tightened at how peaceful Tezuka looked when he was asleep. Or the very faint smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. Or how long his eyelashes were, now that he saw them up close. He shoved all of those observations firmly to the back of his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Poor Tezuka, he'll be okay though! I'm marking this complete for now, but I may add more chapters later :)


End file.
